


By the Grace of the Fire and the Flames

by ShowMeAHero



Series: The Face of the Future, the Blood in My Veins [1]
Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Defenders (Marvel TV)
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Babies, Children, Domestic, Domestic Avengers, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, Family, Family Feels, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Humor, Kid Fic, M/M, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-14 21:21:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18484603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShowMeAHero/pseuds/ShowMeAHero
Summary: “Uh, Bruce?” Tony says, staring directly down into his work pod at the mistake he’s made. He tries to keep his voice even, but, judging by the way Bruce’s head snaps up, he’s missed the mark a little bit. Bruce is usually pretty good at reading his tones.“What is it, Tony?” Bruce asks.“We got a big whoopsie here,” Tony tells him. “Like, a solid eight on the whoopsie scale.”Tony jokingly invented the whoopsie scale a couple of years back, but it’s proven pretty effective in time to judge just how catastrophic their messes are. Spilling a drink? That’s a one on the scale. Ultron? He’s the ten on the whoopsie scale.





	By the Grace of the Fire and the Flames

**Author's Note:**

> Throwing Tony and Bruce in the mix. Hell, why not? I do what I want, and this is what Lauryn and I want. This is our own baby version of Endgame.
> 
> Like others before it, this is a crossover event of my own fics. If you want to read the other series this fic tangles up with, they're all attached to this one!
> 
> Title taken from ["Believer"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7wtfhZwyrcc) by Imagine Dragons.

Tony Stark is known for pushing the envelope a little bit  _ too _ far with his projects. Case in point, the mere fact of Ultron’s existence. And Vision’s. And any of the Iron Man suits. And— well, you get the gist. He goes, and he goes  _ hard,  _ and, typically, Bruce is right there alongside him, the two of them encouraging each other until it goes too far, and then they try (and, often, spectacularly fail) to clean up the messes.

Today is another one of those days.

“Uh, Bruce?” Tony says, staring directly down into his work pod at the mistake he’s made. He tries to keep his voice even, but, judging by the way Bruce’s head snaps up, he’s missed the mark a little bit. Bruce is usually pretty good at reading his tones.

“What is it, Tony?” Bruce asks, in that way he has that suggests that not only does he already know something’s gone wrong, but that it’s a major fuck-up and all Tony’s fault, which,  _ yeah,  _ it  _ is,  _ but he doesn’t have to assume  _ immediately.  _ He’s got big, thick goggles covering most of his face, and Tony can’t see his eyes through them when he looks up at Bruce. Maybe that’s for the best.

“We got a big whoopsie here,” Tony tells him. Bruce just looks at him— Or, Tony assumes he’s staring, because, again. Thick goggles with a black screen. “Like, a solid eight on the whoopsie scale.”

Tony jokingly invented the whoopsie scale a couple of years back, but it’s proven pretty effective in time to judge just how catastrophic their messes are. Spilling a drink? That’s a one on the scale. Ultron? He’s the ten on the whoopsie scale.

“An eight?” Bruce asks. He pushes the goggles up through his hair to rest on top of his head and, Jesus Christ, Tony loves this guy. He’s already curious, all scientific professional interest and just inherent Bruce inquisitiveness, and he puts the tools in his hands down. “What’d you do?”

“Stay there,” Tony says. “I don’t know if it’s dangerous yet.”

“What  _ is  _ it?” Bruce asks, moving closer, because of course he ignores Tony’s instructions. Tony’s not even heeding them, himself, ducking his head down into the tank he’d been working on. They’ve been developing new tech recently, and Tony’s been tweaking some of the Ultron and Vision experiments. This time, it’s been a bit less  _ artificial intelligence,  _ and a bit more…  _ Dr. Frankenstein. _

“It’s less of an  _ it,”  _ Tony tells him. “More of a  _ she,  _ I think.”

Bruce slams to a stop in his tracks. The two of them just stare at each other for a second. Bruce has a smudge of motor oil or tar or something under his right eye. Tony’s eyes flicker to it for a brief moment before he looks back up into Bruce’s eyes.

“Tony, you  _ didn’t,”  _ Bruce says. It’s part-groan. “Tony,  _ Tony,  _ we’ve been  _ over this,  _ you can’t just keep creating artificial intelligence—”

“No, well, see, here’s the thing, I— didn’t,” Tony interrupts him. They eye each other again. “It’s not artificial.”

Bruce is silent. He pulls his goggles fully off his head, sets them on the table to his left, and then gingerly approaches Tony’s work pod. After another beat of just staring at Tony, he finally breaks the eye contact to look down into the machine. Tony can see the exact moment Bruce realizes what he’s looking at, because his face goes through a dozen emotions before landing on total bewilderment. Tony’s never felt that he could safely use that word before, but he’s pretty confident in it now.

“You  _ didn’t,”  _ Bruce repeats, but it’s quieter this time. “Tony, Tony,  _ Tony, no,  _ what even— Are you  _ sure _ she’s not artificial? What  _ is  _ she?”

“Uh, a baby, I think, Dr. Banner? Aren’t you the biologist?” Tony’s posturing, for sure. It’s all he can do to get some semblance of a grip in the face of what he’s semi-accidentally created here.

“I’ve got doctorates in a lot of things, Tony, but none of those are— are creation? Or necromancy?” He reaches for the baby, then stops, pulls his hands back. “What did you  _ do?” _

There’s going to be plenty of time later to go through Tony’s process and his logs and his experiments step-by-step. Bruce and Tony will figure out exactly what happened, and how, and why. Their two heads together will figure it all out. For the moment, though, Tony’s got pretty much no clue, and he says as much. Bruce groans, hands twitching towards the baby again.

“She won’t explode,” Tony says. Bruce glances up at him.

“You don’t know that,” Bruce replies, which, fair, yeah, Tony has absolutely no idea. All he knows is this baby is looking right up at him. “What— How—”

“Kind of a test tube experiment,” is the best explanation Tony can give. “Don’t be mad.”

Bruce blanches. He’s smart, quick on the uptake, and he knows exactly what Tony is saying to him. He looks back down at the baby so fast Tony’s kind of surprised he doesn’t get whiplash, and he says, “Oh,  _ no.” _

“Oh, yeah,” Tony says.

“Whose?” Bruce asks, which is pretty much obvious. Tony elbows Bruce’s hands out of the way and reaches into the pod, lifts the baby out. She doesn’t disagree, doesn’t fuss, just goes peacefully. She’s got huge brown eyes, all Bruce’s, and it’s incredibly obvious to Tony exactly whose she is, especially holding them up side-by-side. “Did you  _ clone  _ me?”

“Not exactly,” Tony says. Bruce comes around next to him to examine her more closely. Tony turns to look at him as he goes on another face journey. Bruce is a very open book.

“Christ, Tony, you— you  _ genetically engineered  _ a  _ baby  _ with  _ our  _ DNA? Are you  _ insane?  _ You are— You are  _ certifiably insane,  _ Tony, fuck—  _ fuck!”  _ Bruce exclaims, stumbling back a couple of steps. Tony turns, confident and trusting as ever that Bruce wouldn’t hurt him, but his heart does tick up a little bit faster when he considers the fact that he’s holding an actual baby in his hands, pretty close to the man that can become a Hulk in pretty much an instant.

“Bruce, it’s fine,” Tony says, as seriously as he can. Bruce motions wildly between Tony and the baby with his hands before he shoves his fingers through his hair and tugs on it. Tony’s seen him do that plenty of times, but never  _ quite  _ so frantically.

“What about this is fine, Tony? None—  _ None  _ of it!” Bruce digs the heels of his hands into his eye sockets and exhales, slowly, counting out as he does it. When he drops his hands, he looks at the baby again. “Tony,  _ why?  _ We didn’t discuss this at  _ all.” _

“We did, kind of,” Tony points out. Bruce looks at him like he’s a colossal moron.

“Discussing the possibilities is not the same as  _ performing the experiment,”  _ Bruce explains, slowly. Tony shrugs, and Bruce exhales again.

“Regardless,” Tony says, and lifts the baby again. Bruce takes a minute to gather himself, then steps forwards, taking the baby out of Tony’s hand. She just goes, again, but seems pleased to be with him, curling in towards him. Bruce’s curious side takes over, and then his caring side after that, and he turns to dig a clean hand towel out of his pile of worktable miscellaneous, wrapping the baby up in it. Tony’s having his own mini-meltdown over this, but that’s something to deal with after they’ve figured out the situation, probably with his therapist on Thursday at 4:00pm, same as every week.

“We should make sure she’s healthy,” Bruce says. “And— alive, I suppose.”

“And probably name her,” Tony adds. Bruce looks to him. “What? Are we just supposed to call her Experiment 326? Call Rogers, he’s got thirty kids, he’s probably got plenty of name ideas.”

Bruce sighs, still looks pale and a little frightened, but when he turns his attention back down to the baby, he’s got a light in his eyes that Tony just loves to see.

“This is a  _ ten  _ on the whoopsie scale, Tony,” Bruce informs him sternly.  _ “Maybe  _ an eleven.”

* * *

The baby is healthy, and alive, genuinely. A test-tube experiment gone wrong— or, right, in a way, because Tony was trying to get to this point eventually, just— maybe not so soon.

She is officially the new marker for an eleven on the whoopsie scale, which Bruce now says he needs to rework to accommodate her.

They do name her. Her name is Maria Rebecca Stark. Bruce is extremely disinterested in passing along his father’s surname, forcefully insisting that they use Stark and Stark alone. Tony doesn’t really have a problem with it, except that he wants Bruce to maybe change his name to Stark, too. In time, he supposes.

This is also all the impetus Tony needs to build a daycare center in the Avengers compound. The compound has expanded with time; for example, the Avengers members themselves each have a house in a cul-de-sac Tony built. The daycare goes in the cul-de-sac, too. When it’s finished, Steve and Vision inspect it themselves.

“What do you care about it?” Tony asks Vision, as he’s scanning the locks on the windows.

“If my sister is going to spend time in here, I’d prefer it be as safe as possible,” Vision replies, which is how Tony finds out that, not only does Vision consider Maria his sister, he apparently considers Tony and Bruce his dads, which is… a lot to unpack.

Peter thinks the same, actually, and accidentally calls both of them  _ Dad  _ more than once, and often refers to Maria as his baby sister. He’s standing next to Tony, arms folded across his chest, watching Steve kick at the baseboards, just to make sure they’re sturdy.

“So, I have five kids, no daycare center,” Steve comments. “Thor’s got a kid, Jess has a kid, Matt, Clint and Nat, and yet, no daycare center until  _ you _ accidentally make a baby.”

“Didn’t seem important,” Tony says, even though the blueprints have been in the works since Sarah was born. Steve  _ was _ suitably impressed that each kid had a little cubby space to their own. The place is high-tech as all get-out, too. Tony even called in reinforcements.

“I assure you, Captain Rogers, this place is as safe as it can possibly be,” Shuri says. “Peter and I made sure it could withstand any circumstances and safely protect all children ages zero to eighteen. It’s the perfect space.”

Steve smiles at her. “I believe you. It’s not  _ my  _ judgment I’m worried about.”

The real test comes later, when Bucky shows up to examine the place. Tony just figures he’s lucky that Thor’s off-planet, but there’s that whole saying about assumptions, because Bucky drags Thor  _ and  _ Loki along with him, and the three of them actively try to destroy the place. Luckily, it’s to no avail, and Shuri is smug beyond all reasonable belief. Tony respects the hell out of her.

“I guess it’ll be fine for the kids,” Bucky comments, after firing a round of bullets into the thick glass windows. None of them shattered. He seems pleased. Thor punches a window and nothing happens. Loki glances to Shuri.

“Where were  _ you  _ when I first visited these people on Earth?” Loki asks.

“Ten years old and still smarter than you, asshole,” Shuri says. Tony laughs so hard he nearly throws his back out.

* * *

Tony vets only the best daycare teachers, but they won’t start until after training. That means, unfortunately, that for the first day of daycare, his childcare providers are limited to Shuri, Peter, and, somehow, Groot, who begs (Shuri says; Tony can’t understand him) to help. The thing is, they’ve got eleven kids to look after, which is understandably a difficult task. Steve dropped off his five kids — Sarah, age ten, Winnie, five, Maggie, five, Shay, three, and Milo, one; Matt and Foggy after him, with Jack, age nine, Molly, six, and Anna, five months; they bring Jessica, Danny, and Luke’s daughter, Danielle, age one, with them; Thor brings Frigga, also one; and Nat and Clint drop off Jem, age two. Maria completes the set, now, age six weeks.

Carol drops by, slamming into the grass lawn out front and jogging inside. The kids all  _ adore  _ her, and Shay breaks into a dead sprint and slams into her shins.

“Damn, what a nice set-up you’ve got here,” she comments. “Would’ve loved a place like this when Monica was a kid.”

“Monica was a  _ kid?”  _ Molly asks, incredulous. “But she’s so cool!”

“Kids can be cool, too, Murdock,” Carol tells her. She lifts Shay up, tosses him up into the air, and Tony nearly has a stroke at how high he goes before she zips up to catch him. He shriek-laughs the whole time.

“Alright, c’mon, let’s go, let’s go,” Tony says. He looks Peter and Shuri — and, Groot, he supposes — in the eyes, and tries to pretend to be a responsible adult and parent and all that. “You’re  _ sure  _ you’ll be all set?”

“Don’t be such a square,” Carol tells him. “They’ll be fine, teenagers are made for babysitting. It’s their best skill.” Carol winks at Peter, who looks like he’ll melt on the spot from it. “I’m sure they can handle themselves.”

“This art is garbage,” Drax says, in the corner of the room, examining Jack’s marker drawing. Jack frowns up at him, red-faced. Mantis shoves lightly at Drax. “What? It is terrible.”

“It is not about the  _ style,  _ it is about the  _ intent,”  _ Mantis explains. Drax glances, confused, back down at the art. Jack snatches it back out of his hands. Winnie holds up a piece of construction paper with macaroni glued down onto it. When Drax doesn’t move, she shoves it closer to him, and he takes it.

“What is this?” Drax asks, more hesitantly now.

“It’s you!” Winnie exclaims. She points to a blob of drying macaroni and glue. “That’s your head, and your arms, see? You’re big and strong.”

Drax stares at the drawing, and, bafflingly enough, he tears up a little bit. He holds the art up for Mantis to see.

“This…” Drax says slowly. “This is art.” He looks back down at it. “This glued macaroni is truly spectacular.” He turns to Winnie. “Thank you, child.”

“You’re welcome, Uncle Drax!” she says sunnily, abandoning him to return to her craft table. Jack’s still glaring down at his marker drawing, but Shuri and Molly are talking softly to him, so Tony figures they’re fine.

“You’re in charge until we get back, Pete,” Tony says. Peter looks overwhelmed, but he still grins.

“Sure, Mr. Stark!” he agrees. “We won’t let you down. It’ll be awesome. Right, guys?” Jem throws a block at his head, and it hits him square between the eyes.

“Listen to your spidey-senses, kid,” Tony tells him. “Danvers! Let’s go.”

“Party pooper,” Carol calls back, but she puts Shay down and follows him out. Peter watches the door shut behind the adults, then turns to Shuri, where she’s talking softly and excitedly to the newborn Maria.

“You’re in charge,” Peter says, desperately, and Shuri laughs.

“I thought you might say so,” she says. She claps her hands, and some of the kids turn to look at her. “Okay, so, today’s the first day of daycare. What’re we going to do?”

A chorus of voices all call back different answers to her, and she turns to Peter and shrugs. Groot shrugs, too, as best as he can.

“I am Groot,” he says, and Shuri laughs again.

“Sure,” she agrees. Peter just nods; he has no idea what Groot’s saying, but he thinks he’s getting closer to figuring it out. “We have a whole day, we can do whatever we’d like.”

Maggie raises her hand, and Shuri calls on her. “Why are you friends with my dad if you’re a princess?”

“Which father do you mean?” Shuri asks.

“Papa,” Maggie answers. Shuri looks to Sarah, who motions to her arm.

“Oh, Barnes?” Shuri says. “The White Wolf! We are great friends. He spent a while with me in Wakanda.”

“Where’s Wakanda?” Winnie asks, at the same time that Maggie asks, “Yeah, but why are  _ you  _ friends with  _ him,  _ since you’re a princess and he’s just an old man?”

Shuri busts out laughing before pulling out her phone to send the question verbatim to her group chat with T’Challa and Bucky. Peter’s lightly jealous but also just so in awe of Shuri that he doesn’t even really process the envy.

* * *

Peter thinks the day went as well as it was going to, since he and Shuri are sixteen and Groot is an alien tree. It’s really the best they could do just to keep eleven children, from age six weeks to ten years, entertained for six hours. Bucky’s the first one to come back, and Peter lifts his head when he hears the beeping of the keypad outside the front door. He’s been getting his makeup done by Molly and Shay for about twenty minutes, and can’t even begin to imagine what he looks like.

Bucky enters, looks over the chaos, does a headcount, and says, “Good job, Parker, Shuri, Groot.” Shuri grins at him, then goes to inspect his arm, check that it’s all set. “How’d it go?”

Sarah’s sipping a hot chocolate Groot helped her make in the daycare’s kitchen when she says, “Winnie and Maggie caused a ruckus. They’re going crazy and stupid.”

“Sarah, what the fuck?” Bucky says, and Sarah just shrugs, taking another sip from her cocoa.

“Sorry, Papa,” Sarah says. “Winnie went crazy and Maggie went stupid. You asked how it went.”

“What do you mean, ‘Maggie went stupid’?” Bucky asks, just as Maggie runs screaming past him with a foam helmet and slams into a wall. Bucky sighs, but just goes to pick her up. He doesn’t leave right away, and Matt shows up soon to grab his kids, and he and Bucky sit down and start talking. Peter’s not exactly sure of the protocol here, but at least Matt can’t see his makeup— and he feels  _ instantly terrible  _ for thinking that, and Matt just smiles like he  _ knows that,  _ and Peter just wants to  _ die. _

“Yo,” Tony says, and Peter jumps a foot in the air. “You look beautiful. Did you keep my daughter alive?”

“She’s fine,” Peter tells him. “She’s asleep.”

“She better be breathing, Parker,” Tony says, going to check on Maria in the crib with her name on it. He checks her pulse, then turns to look at Peter over his sunglasses. “You got lucky this time.”

_ “What,”  _ Peter squeaks out. Tony lifts Maria out of her crib. “Ri’s an angel, of  _ course  _ she is, she’s my sister—”

“I’m  _ not your dad,”  _ Tony says, with no heat behind it, just as Thor crashes into the room.

“Where is my child!” Thor exclaims, less a question than it is a bold shout, and Frigga shrieks from the play area that she and Danielle are trapped in. Peter slumps down in a small red plastic chair and puts his face in his hands before he remembers his makeup; when he looks at his palms, they’re smudged with color.

“You look terrible,” Bruce comments, and Peter jumps again. Bruce frowns. “Is your spidey-sense not working?”

“I think it’s just working constantly,” Peter says, and Bruce grins, sitting in the green plastic chair next to him. “Did you beat the bad guys?”

“Always do,” Bruce says. “Did you keep the kids alive?”

“God, I hope so,” Peter replies. Bruce reaches over and ruffles Peter’s hair before he stands.

“If I trust anyone, Pete, it’s you,” Bruce says, and the moment is permanently branded on Peter’s heart forever. He makes a mental note to write it down later. Bruce crosses the room to Tony and Maria, grinning when Maria notices him and smiles, and Peter just slumps back down, exhausted.

**Author's Note:**

> I also actually wrote some books! It was a long road but, I did it! Ta-da! If you want to read either of them, shoot me a message!
> 
> I have a blog now to request imagines - I just like to make people happy. Submit requests [here!](https://imagine-in-the-fandoms.tumblr.com/ask)
> 
> You can follow me on Twitter at [@nicolelianesolo](https://twitter.com/nicoIodeon) or on Tumblr at [andillwriteyouatragedy](http://andillwriteyouatragedy.tumblr.com/).


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